1st Date And A Hanging
He hung there,
not like 'strange fruit'
but like a body.
Hs blackened tongue partially protruding from his mouth,
and a belt around his neck.
911 operator asked if I was sure he was dead.
'Oh yeah.. he's f78king dead'
His face was purple black,
there was no doubt.
he was dead.
'I'm going to need you to cut him down'- the 911 operator..
'ummm... what? '
'Cut im down'
I climbed next to him,
tryng to balance on the wrought iron fence from which he had picked to end his life.
Do you realize how close you have to get to a dead man in order to cut him down off a gate?
My mind went blank as I sawed throuh the belt with a dull knife.
My mind went blank,
I looked at the belt...
only the belt,
not what was attached.
I had blocked out what was dangling from the other end of that belt,
until I heard the muted 'thud'
Body hitting pavement.
Then it was all flashing lights, sirens, interviews, crime scene photogs.
It was all yellow tape and I stood back to watch.
It took them hours,
meanwhile, the type of people who roam the streets at homeless shelters at 3: 00 AM,
walked past... slowly.
always the same dumb question:
'Is he dead? ' they would ask me.
'Well, he isn't doig well.'
They kept walking.
Later, after the carnival died down, my bar tender texted me.
'Hows work? '
(I think she lived vicariously through the chaos of my line of work)
I told her of the nights events.
I had to cut down the body of a man,
a resident,
one I knew well
down from a gate.
Within the hour she was at my workplace.
I sat in her car, eating chocolates she brought to cheer me up.
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poem by Brevet Wilson
Added by Poetry Lover
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